


Vibes

by coverofnight



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coverofnight/pseuds/coverofnight
Summary: A prisoner falls for Joan.





	1. One

Governor Ferguson’s upper lip twitches as she waits for Ms. Miles to retrieve a troublesome prisoner. Her patience for these types is running thin as of late. And when those who dare stoke the fires within Wentworth have only just arrived, there’s even less patience to go around. 

So, Joan sits still and stonelike, with hands clasped and resting at the edge of her desk, as Ms. Miles fetches the insurgent. From the corner of her eye, she scans the photo on the prisoner’s file. Camila Ryan, early twenties. Deep-set green eyes. Golden, sun-kissed skin. A dark mane with a soft wave. A pretty, youthful face masked by mischief. 

Joan wears her own kind of mask, one that proves useful when Ms. Miles arrives with Ryan in tow. 

“Ryan for you, Governor,” Ms. Miles says before motioning for the prisoner to sit opposite the stark woman at the center of the room.

Ryan carries herself with a self-assuredness rarely seen in first-time offenders. With her head held high and shoulders erect, she marches forth as if her legs always lead her in the right direction. Today, they bring her to Governor Ferguson and she's ready to take on whatever challenge awaits her. Ryan strides over to the chair opposite the Governor, gives the older woman a probing once-over, and sits. 

“Thank you, Ms. Miles,” Joan says with a nod. “You may stay. This’ll be brief.” 

Joan’s eyes clock Ryan as she slouches in the chair across her. A fresh cut and bruise sit just beneath her left eye. Even still, an air of faux confidence envelops the teal-clad woman. The charade is amusing, but only enough for Joan to smirk and give a slight shake of the head. Not wanting to dwell on her own mirth, Joan quickly leafs through Ryan’s file before settling on a particular page.

“It says here you were picked up during a raid at a brothel some weeks ago…” Joan’s voice trails in anticipation. She’s sure a futile rebuff is to come.

Ryan shifts in her seat and shrugs Joan off. “Yeah, so? No worse than what’s on record for some of the other bitches in here.”

“True, but those other...bitches, as you call them, have learnt how to behave, haven’t they? But you, you’re a child.” Joan takes pause as she once again notes Ryan’s age. Only twenty-two and plucked from a brothel in a drug-induced haze. The prisoner’s youth stirs a sliver of sympathy in Joan, but with Ms. Miles standing watch, she chooses to plow forward. 

Ryan’s eye catches Joan’s tongue dart out to wet her lips. A deep, arousing voice follows. 

“You’re an ingrate.” Joan delivers the insult slowly to ensure Ryan fully comprehends the words. “You’ve been here three weeks and given my staff nothing but trouble.”

“With all due respect, Ms.--” Ryan leans forward to read the nameplate on Joan’s desk. “Ferguson,” Ryan says pointedly before continuing. “I’ve got it on good word that your officers have a little pool going about how long I’ll survive in here.”

Joan cuts her glance from Ryan to Miles and knows instantly that what the girl says is true. “And who told you that?”

“None of your business. Besides, look at me. I’m doing just fine,” Ryan blusters, raising her arm and flexing her bicep. “I’m strong. Can take care of myself.”

Joan’s cynical eyes squint in mock amusement. There’s barely a hint of a smirk on her face now. “That black eye says something different.”

Ryan winces subconsciously as she points a finger to her eye. “This?” She waves off the injury and casually leans back in her chair. “That’s nothing. You should have seen what happened to me in the showers when I first got here.” Ryan pauses and waits for a reaction from the Governor whose face falls almost immediately.

If there’s one thing Joan has learned in all her years on the job, it’s that prisoners instinctively prey on those weaker than themselves. No matter the bravado exhibited in this office today, there’s no question that Ryan is completely out of her depth. And that’s not unlike some prisoners who have come before her. 

An image of a dead and hanging Jianna flashes in Joan’s mind. All these years later and she can still feel that limp body in her arms. She can still hear her own screams. And just over that, she hears Ryan psyching herself up to survive the remainder her stay in Wentworth. 

“I survived it. Made it through.” Ryan’s voice deepens as she says the words, but the fear in her eyes isn’t lost on Joan. “And now I’m sitting here with you, Ms. Ferguson. No skin off my back.”

Joan’s silence at the revelation is enough to let Ryan know that she’s shaken. And concerned. One might even think the Governor had sympathy for her, but even Ryan, young and naive as she is, knows she wouldn’t dare show it. Or would she?

“First of all, Ryan, it’s Governor to you,” Joan purrs. “Secondly, these women are dangerous. You’d do well to adhere to my rules. You will obey my officers. And you will cease to be a problem for me, my staff, and the other prisoners. Is that understood?”

It’s well understood, only Ryan wants more than anything for the handsomely austere and seemingly protective woman before her to keep talking, keep purring, keep scolding. Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Or what, Governor?” 

Joan sighs softly at Ryan’s impudence. “Or you will be spending much more time in here,” she says, raising an eyebrow in return in hopes of striking a little fear in the young woman. 

“In your office?” Ryan smiles playfully. “I think I’d like that, Governor.”

Joan takes a moment to read the expression on Ryan’s face. There seems to be interest and intrigue there, the kind she’s only seen directed at her a handful of times. She refuses to let it sway her. “I think we’re done here,” Joan says before turning her attention to the officer at the door. “Ms. Miles, please escort Ryan back to her unit.”

Ryan begins to rise from her chair, looking down her nose at Joan. “My name’s Camila. You should call me that from now on.”

As the prisoner stands to her full height, her white shirt rides up, making a trace of golden skin visible to the Governor. Confronted with the enticing view of Ryan’s navel, Joan turns her gaze toward her office window.

“You know, I could fall for a woman like you,” Ryan coos before she turns to leave. 

The unexpected statement forces Joan to face the prisoner once again and, to her surprise, those green eyes convey sincerity. Despite the girl’s recent past, there’s an artlessness about her that prompts Joan to let skepticism to give way to curiosity. 

“What does that mean?” Joan finally asks. 

Ryan licks her lips. “It means you’re hot,” she quips before scurrying from the room. 

Joan stares after her only to be distracted by Ms. Miles, who gives an amused raise of the eyebrows as she closes the door.  

Outside the Governor’s office, Ryan chuckles to herself, producing a scowl from officer Miles. 

“You’ll be in even more shit with the women if you keep that up,” Miles snarls as she leads the way to H Block. 

“What? Flirting with the Governor? She’s a hottie,” Ryan laughs. 

Miles, both moved and irritated by the girl’s ignorance, sighs. “Nobody likes a screw lover.”

To Ryan’s ears, Miles’ statement sounds almost like a veiled threat, but not enough of one to halt her curiosity. She clicks her tongue. “Yeah, whatever. So, is she a lezzo or what? I definitely got lezzo vibes.”

Miles stops dead in her tracks and looks the prisoner over. There’s a sweet deal to be struck here if she plays her cards just right. “Twenty bucks and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” 


	2. Two

Doreen Anderson wades a path through a sea of teal, parting ways with Ms. Bennett to catch a fleeting glimpse of Ryan. The young prisoner walks fast, too fast for a woman with a growing belly and an aching back to keep up speed. Ryan reaches the unit well before Anderson and nods a hello to Birdsworth who sits and knits at the table. 

Birdsworth gives her best schoolteacher greeting. “Hey love, how’d ya go?”

Ryan shrugs her shoulders. “All right. Governor just wanted to see how I was coping in here.”

“Aw, yeah. She can be good like that depending on...well, she can be good like that,” Birdsworth says as she catches Anderson’s eye just at the gate. “Right, Dors? The Governor’s been pretty nice to ya, especially with the baby and all.”

Anderson flinches at the thought of Ms. Ferguson. The Governor -- large, looming, and always ready to raise a hand -- has given Anderson a fair share of frights. This morning, for instance, when she insisted that the mum-to-be keep a watchful eye on Ryan. The Governor had crept round to the edge of her desk, slowly delivering a laundry list of reasons for Anderson to do her bidding. And Anderson, in as sheepish a manner as possible, simply nodded yes.

And so, here she was with eyes on Ryan and an earful of Birdsworth that wasn’t really worth listening to. 

“Hey Camila, can I have a word?” Anderson nods toward Ryan’s cell. The motion shuts Birdsworth right up and moves Ryan with a quickness unusual for her laid back nature.

Anderson closes the cell door behind her and looks to Ryan who stands by the window, the daylight casting out her soft features. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Ryan says. Her hands rest in her pockets. She’s relaxed, totally unbothered by whatever Anderson might say in spite of all the abuse she’s suffered at the hands of her fellow prisoners. But she figures Anderson is too pregnant to do her any real harm. 

“The Governor wants me to keep an eye on ya. She says you’ve had some trouble and need a shoulder to lean on. And I’m peer worker, so…” Anderson softens her intense gaze on the girl. “I know how scary it can be in here, but you’ll be alright. Just stick with me. No one’ll bother us.”

“Why? Because you’re the Governor’s girlfriend?” 

Despite the innocence of Ryan’s inquiry, a fire rages inside Anderson. “What was that?”

“Nothin’. I heard you and the Governor had somethin’ special between ya is all. Don’t even know if it’s true.” As always, Ryan shrugs it all off. 

“Well, it’s not and don’t you go telling other people that, either. That’ll get me in some trouble in here and I can’t risk it with my baby.” Anderson’s glare turns cold again. “You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Ryan affirms, turning her attention from Anderson to the cell window. She picks at a chip in the pane. “So, you lookin’ after me -- what does that mean, exactly?”

Anderson purses her lips, rubs her belly. “Just means you get to stick by me.”

“And the Governor?”

“What about her?”

“She asked you to do this,” Ryan says. Her mind wanders momentarily to the conversation she had with the woman some thirty minutes earlier. There was something there. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was something nonetheless. “She’s concerned about me?”   
  
Anderson furrows her brow. “Yeah. Like I said, she told me you were having trouble adjusting. She reckons you need some guidance and that you’d be receptive to help.”

Ryan turns, somewhat stunned by Anderson’s words. “She said all that?”

“Yeah.” Anderson’s voice betrays a hint of annoyance now. “Look, what’s with all these questions. Yeah, she said all that, so you’ll be hanging with me from now on. Alright?”

Ryan smiles and nods, giving Anderson an opportunity to turn to leave. 

“Hey, wait!” Ryan calls to her. “Any idea where Ms. Miles is now?”

“Don't know. Why?”

“It’s nothing. Just got a debt to settle is all.”

“Already in debt to Ms. Miles?” Anderson shakes her head. “Keep an eye out for her. She’ll take you for your life’s savings if you’re not careful.”

“As if I had any savings,” Ryan says under her breath as Anderson closes the door behind her. 

* * *

The afternoon sees Governor Ferguson turning her sights on Anderson, who folds towels in the laundry and smiles at Ryan just across the way. Though the CCTV footage only offers a blurry view of the women, it's enough to ease Joan's anxiety. If there's a prisoner within Wentworth that she trusts implicitly, it's Anderson. Save for the unexpected pregnancy, Anderson's been nothing but a dream. With any luck, Ryan will learn a thing or two. 

At least, that's Joan's hope until she sees Ryan wander off to another corner of the room. One click of the mouse and Joan has full view of Ryan and Miles swapping cash for information. Anderson, meanwhile, ignores the scene unfolding before her. 

Joan twitches her lip at Anderson's willful ignorance. 

“If you want something done correctly, you need to do it yourself,” Joan whispers to herself. 

When Miles reports to the Governor's office just before her shift ends, Joan is about ready to pounce. A strange mix of anger and sympathy settles into her chest -- the kind she felt when Jianna would cry to her about the cruelty of the other women. As quickly as the memory comes over her, Joan discards it.

“You wanted to see me, Governor,” Miles says hesitantly. Her lip curls into a nervous half-smile she doesn't mean to display. 

“Yes, Ms. Miles. Come.” Joan lifts her hand to beckon the officer. “I'd like you to look at something.”

Miles slowly makes her way to Joan's desk. Keeping a slight distance between herself and the other woman, Miles peers over the Governor's shoulder. Blurry CCTV images of herself and Ryan meet her curious gaze. Joan clicks play. 

“What's going on here?” Joan looks over her shoulder. “Drugs? Bet-making?”

Miles steps back in mock disgust. As if she'd do such a thing. “No, Governor.”

Joan turns in her chair, forcing Miles to make her way back round the desk. “Then what, Ms. Miles?”

Miles lips are sealed tight, like a child whose silly secrets are best kept from the adults in the room. 

Joan taps her pen on the desk. Pressure in her chest forces a stern voice to threaten the woman before her. “You like this job, Ms. Miles?”

Silence. 

“Then, I suggest you tell me what's going on.”

Miles bows her head and considers her options. She takes too long for Joan to wait.

“Ms. Miles, if you're endangering the prisoners in any way, it is my job to do something about that. What did Ryan pay you for?”

“Information,” Miles responds in a low voice. 

“About?”

“You. She wants to know about you,” Miles blurts out. Never has she wished for a quick dismissal more than in this moment. She hates herself for her carelessness, for not blocking the CCTV's view of her transaction with Ryan.

“And I'm worth what? Twenty, forty to you?”

Miles holds back a chuckle at the Governer's amateur estimation. “Twenty for a nugget of info.”

Joan nods her head. “Mhm, playing a long game, I see. And what is it this prisoner wants to know?”

Suddenly ashamed of making a trade out of the Governor's sexuality, Miles turns her head from the woman. 

“What is it that she wants to know, Officer Miles?” Joan's voice is pure irritation and it stings Miles’ ears. 

“She wants to know whether you prefer the ladies, Governor.” Miles’ voice falters. “You know, if you're single, taken, whatever.”

Insecurity suddenly clouds Joan's judgment and she lets out a deep sigh that Miles interprets as frustration.

“I obviously don't know anything, Governor. I just tell her what she wants to hear,” Miles says quickly. 

“So, you're just taking her for a ride, then.”

“That's right, Governor.”

Silence falls over the two of them as they contemplate each other. 

Suddenly, Joan cuts her eyes away from the officer. “Just go,” she purrs across the room. 

And with that, Miles is out of sight. 


End file.
